this has been a banner year for music. not only has the near-decade-long slump in album sales swiftly turned around due to the return of the superfan and ear-candy enthusiasts the world over, but the quality of product has become important once again. even the billboard hot 100, which for years has been the bane of my existence, has revealed that we now want better sounds, we now want better artists. and nowhere has this been deeper than in the pop stratosphere. five years ago in a sea of tail-end crunk and r&b kiss-offs, one could not foresee such a pop revolution that would occur throughout the electrifying 11 months of this year. it just didn't seem possible.
however the stars were aligned at the end of 2009: beyonce launched the digital phenomenon that is "single ladies," katy perry found a niche in sorority philosophy, britney just finished the lacquer of circus, rihanna proved herself as the moodiest of them all, ke$ha reminded us of those club urchins who messily dance alone on the floor with a water bottle in hand, and as the summer faded into fall, a new york alien starchild named lady gaga made her global debut and changed the game. it is quite unfair to say gaga "changed" the game, however, before she came on the scene, all of the previously mentioned artists, aside from bey, were seen with disdain, as if pop could not have a soul. yet gaga infused the utmost seriousness in a dying genre and made even the most cynical of critics re-evaluate their eyerolls.
in the wake of this pop rebirth, we have been given some incredibly bejeweled works of art: the misery and intergalactic vibes of the fame monster and the profane and sacred mural brushes of born this way (lady gaga), the island disco thumps of loud (rihanna), the beer-and-candy-coated delusions of teenage dream (katy perry), the soulful experimentalism of 4 (beyonce), the stealth futurism of femme fatale (britney) and of course, the newest and critically brightest of them all, the arena-lounge melancholy of 21 (adele). each of these albums have been doing extremely well, from singles to videos to overall sales, and it represents the modern fascination with the pop diva as philosopher and soothsayer. and i don't expect anything less from rihanna's latest effort, talk that talk.
stylistically, the 23-year-old's sixth album is an ingenious concept of a nymphomaniac desiring to be a virgin again. although sex is celebrated and appreciated far more openly here than on anything rihanna has ever done before, it is still counteracted by mid-tempo synth-ballads about wanting love, finding love, and needing love in the most elementary, basic forms. it's this fantastical notion of having it both ways alone that adds a wave of sadness over the promiscuous joie de vivre, giving a tremendous amount of depth to someone who is constantly vilified for her supposed lack thereof. what rihanna is saying is not that she hates fucking, it's that she wants to be fucked by someone she is in love with.
this message is nowhere clearer than on the opener "you da one," which is bound to become rihanna's 12th #1. the blossoming languid track is the kind of nursery-rhyme confessional one whispers into their pillow, the blazing sun basking through the window in one's eyes whilst dreaming of touching that special person once again. with careful ease, its sleepy sweetness is soon interrupted by "where have you been," an electric noir of oceanic and glacial capabilities that verge of paranoia yet ultimately result in pure tantalizing euphoria. it is that buzz-driven bipolar musing that warms you up for the complete burst of sonic tear-stained moodiness of "we found love," which manages to make the repeated chorus of finding love "in a hopeless place" seem like the most tragic line in pop this year.
the eponymous song is a cool, pulsating duet with jay-z in which they play a lust-filled cat-and-mouse game in which rihanna reminds her suitor that he will never have "another like me." the next track, "cockiness (love it)," is a classic hard-banging sex romp that reminds one of an ancient rome foam party and the bass-driven interlude (?) "birthday cake" continues the sleek, sizzling hedonism though, unfortunately, fades out before the act can be exacted. "we all want love" is a call-to-arms for romantics in which rihanna asks "what are you living for?," a question that strikes me as both applicable to adoration and the current confusion of the world. and in one of my favorites, "drunk on love," she anchors to her bed, hungry and lonely of romance through an echoing crunch of galactic energy, coming off like an olympian princess with no one to share her greatness with. it is a heartbreaking, incredibly-danceable beauty that perfectly encapsulates the album's theme of sex and love.
ending talk that talk is the jumpy sensuality of "roc me out" that vibes metropolitan grime in a shake of vibrancy and causes the pop star to sweetly admit "i'll let you in on a dirty secret/i just wanna be loved", the colossally charming new wave lullaby of "watch n' learn" that brilliantly mixes the sound of a mobile hanging above a baby's crib with the mobility of baby-making music, and "farewell," which resembles that of a folded-up letter not to be given or received by the person it was intended for. it is a sharp, decidedly contemplative way to finish such an album filled with bump and step, but it was also a passionate one, as it wraps up the primary theme of nostalgic purity in a world in which hedonism is valued equally. it is not a moral, socio-political message, yet whether a humanist comment on being young, beautiful, sexy, and aware of it all. nor is it a gimmick, as most critics will note, but yet a cosmic tone poem of pop/dubstep proportions. of all her albums, i find this to be the most mature and the most vulnerable at the same time.
as the year winds down and opens up room for another of perhaps even greater degrees, i am happy to have lived in 2011, in which music and primarily pop--which i have been rooting for a comeback since the fade-out of the boyband/princess era--has become important again. we are living in a time where our generation has usurped the old guard of musicians and has replaced them with a glittering variety of talent, style, and skill. it is glorious to look at the charts, remember the videos, and to take in the huge moments that occur around us and be grateful that we can look back and say, "yeah, kiddies, i was there."
